Sounds of the Heart
by beatrixitiy
Summary: In his 6th year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter notices the change in his enemy, Draco Malfoy. What happens when he finally finds an outlet for all his frustrations built up over the summer? Slash ::DISCONTINUED::
1. Just Like Always

**Intro/ **Hello – well, I'm new at this and this is my first fic so no flames please! But constructive criticism is very helpful.

**Disclaimer/**Everything belongs to J.K.Rowling and Warner Bros. I don't own anything. Just having fun. :)

**A/N/** The one sheep, two sheep thing is originally 'one fish, two fish' by Dr. Seuss.

**A/N 2**/ This is the 6th year in my story. So just pretend that the 6th books hasn't come out yet. I'm just continuing on from the 5th book. Well enjoy!

**NOTE/ If you don't like the Harry Potter/ Draco Malfoy pairing, I suggest you don't read this fic.**

**1/** Just like always

One sheep…two sheep…red sheep…blue sheep… 

Harry James Potter was lying on his back on his rumpled bedcovers, trying (and failing) to fall asleep. The extremely weary 16-year-old heaved a sigh and started up the stained ceiling of his bedroom.

One stain…two stains…red stains…blue stains… 

Harry turned his head and glanced at the glaring red digits of his alarm clock -- 6:03 A.M. He sighed again and ran a hand through his unruly, raven hair. He could hear the muffled roaring of his Uncle Vernon snoring away in the next room. He shifted his position and tried to block the noise out. Escape from the noise was impossible. He groaned and smothered his ear with a pillow.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock_….Harry opened one eye and glared in the direction of the hallway. The constant ticking of the antique clock seemed to ring inside his head, rattling his brain and slowly infuriating him.

Hedwig, Harry's beautiful snow owl hooted from her cage, her bright yellow eyes screaming 'I-know-you-can-hear-me-buster-so-why-don't-you-let-me-out-huh?' Harry shifted his gaze from his door to his owl. He stared at her for a moment, watching her impatient eyes glare back at him.. Hedwig sqwaked softly and Harry pulled himself out of bed and treaded softly over to her cage. Hedwig hooted crossly again and Harry could hear his uncle grunt and go back to sleep.

He knew if Hedwig weren't let out, she would start making a racket, and then Harry would have to deal with his annoyed, sleep-deprived uncle.

_What a joy that would be_, he thought sarcastically. He snapped open Hedwig's cage and watched her soar gracefully out the window. Harry leaned on his windowsill, hand cupped under his chin, watching the dark outline of Hedwig grow fainter and fainter.

The dark sky that hung low over Privet Drive, slowly gave way to the dusky pink-blue glow of morning. The treetops turned a brighter green and rooftops glowed in the morning light.

Harry peered out his window and watched the familiar morning routines of his neighbors. Mr. Terry kissed his wife goodbye and started his car – as always; Ms. Puttyhouse's cat yeowled – as always, and Mrs. McGee jogged around the block – as always.

A strange sense of comfort and calm washed over Harry as he witnessed these everyday routines. They were constant, safe. Nothing ever…._changed_. The car always started, the cat always shrieked and Mrs. McGee jogged around – just like she had done everyday for the past 25 years. Everyone expected it to happen, and it did. You could count on it always being there. You knew it would never…change. …Not like….

Harry clenched his teeth and brought his fist down hard upon the windowsill. _God_ – would _everything_ remind him of Sirius? And as always, his thoughts managed to drift back to his godfather.

Harry felt his chest tighten and he gripped the windowsill, his knuckles turning white. _Just…let it go Harry. Let it go…, _he repeated, drilling the mantra into his numb brain.

He took a deep breath and willed himself not to think about Sirius. His godfather. His _dead_ godfather. He was _gone_ -- and he wasn't coming back. He died – hadn't Harry witnessed that? God dammit he was _dead!_ Harry laughed, and the harsh sound reverberated around the room and stung his ears painfully.

The scene blurred as the old white walls of his bedroom slowly formed grim faces and a sea of red hair. Harry remembered the small reception for Sirius. He remembered the clouds of drawn faces, coming up to him and murmuring comforting words. "I'm sorry, Harry," "We feel your pain," had been repeated so many times, it felt like if someone had pressed paused, it would have paused. Just like a record player, over and over again, until the tape becomes a part of you, and you can't tear away from it. One phrase was repeated over and over again…_ 'I'm sorry you lost him…'_ Harry had felt like punching them in frustration. 'He wasn't _lost _god dammit! – LOST! If you're _lost_ you can be _found_. He's not coming back! NO! He's _gone_! _Not lost! Just—just---GONE! Just gone!' _

A dog barked and shook Harry out of his swirling memories – only to be pulled back into another cloud of them. An image of a huge, bear-like dog transforming into the handsome face of his godfather engulfed Harry, squeezing him. He closed his eyes and pushed the image away, tear prickling his eyes, uncomfortably.

_BRING BRING!_

The high-pitched noise of his Aunt and Uncle's alarm clock startled Harry, who sprang back and hit his toe on the dresser. Harry swore colorfully under his breath and rubbed his toe angrily. He looked over at the dresser and glared at it. _Stupid lump of wood_, he thought. Suddenly he froze and held his breath. On top of the dresser was an old plastic hand mirror – you know the really cheap kind with red plastic around it. It had been there when Harry had moved into the room – but he had never really noticed it before.

Harry walked towards the dresser, treading slowly and heavily – as if he were sifting through clouds. Harry picked the mirror up and gripped it in his shaking fingers. Hope swelled like a wave inside him. Maybe?

Maybe…the mirror would change….and Sirius' face would appear….and….they'd laugh and talk. And…and then they would grump about Kreacher, or tease Hermione or…or…_anything_. Anything that would bring him back to…before. Just when things were the same.

But then, after a moment – all Harry could see was a pair of wire-rimmed glasses reflected in the grimy, smudged mirror.

Disappointment and fury raged inside of him, and he hurled the mirror at the wall with a choked cry.

What were you hoping for Potter? For Sirius to appear in the mirror and ask you how you were as if nothing had happened? Did you truly believe he would come back? Get a grip, Harry. Sirius isn't coming back – and you know that. Stop kidding yourself.

Harry stared at the broken mirror; shards of glass and red plastic sprinkling the floor. He was breathing hard, his whole body shaking. The familiar, dull ache in his stomach twisted and churned, eating his insides out. He replayed, in his mind, the mirror hurtling towards the floor, light glinting off it's glassy circle, shimmering, before the inevitable crash would break it. And…it'd be gone. Just like that.

CRASH! BOOM!

Harry whipped his head around towards the sound and instinctively drew his wand. Only – his wand was still residing in the cupboard downstairs with his textbooks. His breathing hard, he stepped back instinctively, as if to protect himself from whatever was coming.

Harry suddenly saw his enraged uncle storm into the door, sending locks and bolts flying. His pajama shirt was still on, but crisp black trousers fitted his bulging legs. His hair was still damp and one sock flopped crazily on his foot.

"What the hell is going on in here, boy?" Vernon snarled, small blue eyes glaring accusingly at Harry. "Making a terrific noise you are! You'll wake up half the county!"

Harry stood still, the sharp words of his Uncle washing over him, as water does to the sand. Even this – shouting and yelling – was familiar. It was like a pair of worn pajamas you had. You could slip into it easily and feel comfortable – confident even in what was going to happen.

Suddenly, Vernon Dursley turned white and brandished a trembling finger at his nephew. "You better hope it's none of that m-m-m…that-that RUDDY NONSENSE of yours, hear me? I want NONE of that ridiculous rubbish in my household, YOU HEAR!"

By now, Aunt Petunia had joined him, shooting daggers at Harry, still dressed in her bathrobe and curlers. Dudley snored on, undisturbed by the shouting going on down the hall.

Vernon continued with the enthusiasm of a rampaging elephant. "Now listen here you little--" he stopped and started at the remains of the mirror on the floor.

Vernon stopped and stared. "_What_ are you _doing_ in here? Breaking and ruining things!" he yelled hoarsely, his shaking finger still pointing at his nephew. "Oh, and I suppose you're practicing your silly tricks, eh? Trying to see if you can float things, huh?" Uncle Vernon's sneering voice accompanied his twisted form of a smirk.

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" he shouted.

Harry quivered with anger, hands clenched at his sides. "It was an _accident_!" he said loudly, not backing down. "That IT ALRIGHT! I'M NOT DOING ANY MAGIC!"

The second he said it, he knew he was in for it.

"_WHAT have we told you!"_ Uncle Vernon said in a dangerously quiet voice. "I want NONE of that in my house! And one more word about it, and _you_'_ll_ be locked up."

Vernon and his wife glared at Harry nastily.

"Look!" Harry said as evenly as possible. "Your alarm startled me, I bumped into the dresser and the mirror fell of, okay? That's it."

It wasn't exactly a lie, but wasn't the truth either. Harry brushed those feelings away carelessly and focused his flashing eyes on his pudgy uncle.

Vernon narrowed his eyes at his nephew. "If you're ly--"

"I'm NOT lying," Harry interrupted coldly.

His uncle stared at him for a moment. "Fine," he said briskly. "Clean up the mess and stay in the room. Now you remember, boy, -- DON'T SAY THE 'M' WORD!" Harry didn't respond. "And next time, _boy_, try and suppress your extreme clumsiness – these are all things _I've_ paid for. Better start showing some respect." He curled his lip at Harry and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry collapsed back onto his bed, his hands over his face. Tears slid down his cheeks, and his entire body shook.

"Sirius…" he whispered.

Like it? I wanted the first chapter to really show the toll of Sirius' death on Harry. And I think it showed….well….you know what to do….REVIEW PLEASE! Thank you. :)


	2. Business and 13 Days

**NOTE: PLEASE READ!** : **In an insane burst of insanity my computer and FF has deleted chapters 2, 3, and 4. (Why, is beyond me.) Anyways, I'm starting again from chapter 2. The new and improved version of Sounds of the Heart will be slightly darker….not as fluffly. (smirk) I'm _really really_ sorry about all this – I'll try and update as soon as I can!**

**NOTE: A _BIG_ thank you to ****Jhanterre**** who pointed out my mistake. Thanks!**

**NOTE: **This chapter has been reposted without the little A/N's. Thank you **Roddanagh**

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to J.K.Rowling and Warner Bros. I only own the plot, which is a product of copious amounts of sugar consumed at 2:00 in the morning. Hehe…fun…

**NOTE: If you don't like the Harry/Draco pairing, please do not read this fic. **

**2. Business and Thirteen Days**

Cold, bitter, silver-gray eyes, cunning and confident, bore into the small, pudgy wizard mercilessly. Long, aristocratic fingers rested gracefully upon an ebony wood desk. Black robes blended well into the dark shadows of the majestic study room. The light of many candles flickered and threw their soft light upon white-blonde hair, making it glow.

The smaller wizard shifted slightly and cleared his throat. Short, pudgy fingers fumbled in a small briefcase, and withdrew a packet of important-looking letters with a seal printed handsomely in the top corner. Another piece of parchment appeared, this time with small, neat numbers filling numerous columns and rows. The papers were placed upon the polished wood desk, and the pudgy wizard quickly withdrew his hand. He cleared his throat again, and began speaking.

"Ahem…Mr. Malfoy, as you are aware, hem hem, your father's – ah – inability to deal with matters of this kind, the burde—er—dealings have been shifted to you…"

Cool gray eyes darkened slightly, and narrowed.

The pudgy wizard looked slightly alarmed, then quickly replaced it with a confident mask always worn during business dealings. His breath a slight bit faster, he nervously wiped his hands on his robes and took a deep breath to calm himself. It just wouldn't do to be nervous when talking deals with a _Malfoy_. No. It wouldn't do at all. The small wizard cringed slightly as he thought of the consequences if this deal was rejected. He shook his head slightly and returned to the conversation, his voice somewhat cool.

"Mr. Malfoy," he began again, "Gladkin's Trading would like to discuss the Malfoys investment in our business. As you know, we are offering…"

The younger Malfoy leaned back in his chair and let the shaky words of Mr. Geobalff wash over him. He placed his arm delicately on the carved wood of his desk chair and frowned slightly.

Mr. Geobalff immediately saw this frown and hastened to arrive at the actual deal. He nervously wiped a sheen of sweat off his face and tugged at his collar.

Draco tapped his fingers on the armrest evenly and allowed his mind to wander.

Ever since his father, Lucius Malfoy had been imprisoned in Azkaban, all the business matters of the family had been passed on to his son, only naturally. Draco knew that his father had owned, or had a large share in many company – but he didn't know there were _this_ many. Most of the Malfoy-owned companies were completely legal. However, there _were_ a few that were somewhat shady, as well as those few that were…ah…a wee bit black. Every single business matter was now Draco's concern. Every deal, every transfer, every single account was now in Draco's care. Narcissa Black-Malfoy, as Lucius's wife, of course did have some say in things but ever since…

The younger Malfoy's eyes clouded as he automatically glanced towards the door, lips set in a tight line. He could almost picture his mother, sitting regally on the plush black couch, white-blonde hair spilling down over one shoulder, long graceful fingers delicately wrapped around a crystal wine goblet. Her cunning glacier eyes would be staring at the crackling fire before her, slightly unfocused and wandering.

Draco tightened his grip on the curved wood of his armrest. Ever since his father had been taken to Azkaban, Narcissa Black-Malfoy, once the graceful yet powerful woman that had been standing by his father's side, suddenly faded. She had shrunk inside herself, taking to lounging on the plush sofa and sipping her daily goblet of wine. Narcissa seemed to have lost interest in her glittering life. She had married Lucius (her parent's will), and had gained this…incredible lifestyle. She had become a powerful, cunning woman – a Slytherin woman 100. Her delicate, china doll beauty could capture anyone, and make them do her bidding. But now…everything had been turned over to Draco. Narcissa Malfoy as she had been known, had disappeared.

A slight cough caught Draco's attention. He turned back to Mr. Geobalff who was apparently waiting for Draco's response. The pudgy wizard cleared his throat and began speaking again.

"Ahem…Mr. Malfoy, sir…the deal? What do you make of it? Ahem – as you know, Gladkin's Tradi--" The nervous wizard was cut off by the cold voice of Draco Malfoy.

Draco looked disdainfully at the wizard before him and drummed his fingers impatiently. He didn't give a crap about Gleepkin's – Glabkanes – _whatever_'s Trading business. He knew enough about these offers. His father had let him sit in on one. Lucius had been incredibly intelligent in business and trading matters. Fortunately, the skill in business had been passed down to his son.

"Yes," Draco drawled impatiently. "Well, Mr. Gaobliff, thank you for your time and patience. However, I must reject this offer. I'm just simply--"

Mr. Geobalff looked terribly alarmed. He scrambled to make one last offer before the young Malfoy would kick him out. "Ah—sir, Mr. Malfoy, sir," he interjected quickly. "Y-you see…did you see these figures? T-t-the company—would—would be very—ah—Gladkins has been doing exceptionally well---Mr. Malfoy—kind sir, do you--?" Geobalff was now hyperventilating slighty, sweat running down his face in small rivulets. He clutched his briefcase painfully, his eyes wide.

But Draco had had enough. He stood up to his full height, which was a impressive 6' 1". He curled his lip at the sweaty man in front of him and lifted his chin. He narrowed his eyes and looked down haughtily. He didn't even need to dismiss him.

The alarmed Mr. Geobalff hurriedly gathered his papers and stuffed them back into his briefcase crazily. He took the infamous Malfoy 'look' as a dismissal. Before Draco could even utter a word, he was running out of the dark study room, briefcase bouncing along behind him.

Draco Malfoy glanced despairingly at the back of the quickly retreating Mr. Geobalff and smirked. What an idiot. After a moment, he sat back comfortably into the red leather seat. Reclining back, he placed his hands into his lap thoughtfully.

Lids closed over silver-gray orbs as Draco allowed his thoughts to wander freely. He thought about his current situation. He was the dominant Malfoy in the clan. The leader, if you will. He felt all the troubles and cares of the family rest heavily on his shoulders. His father had left him – left him here, to deal with _everything_. Long fingers curled into a fist unknowingly and tightened.

All these issues – were now Draco's. He had been more vulnerable. His father was the rock in Draco's life. Maybe not the perfect parent, a little too dominating and controlling – but at least he was constant. Draco knew his father loved him, as always. Always. But…now that Lucius was gone, his role model, the one he had always looked up to – was gone as well.

Draco had evolved, adapted to his situation. His outer mask had become harder, more bitter. Colder and more distant. It wasn't as childish as before.

Once soft features had changed into sharper, more angular features. His face grew more and more like his fathers, only softened a bit by his mother's china doll face. Silky, white-blonde locks were cut short, draping themselves elegantly near his ears.

Draco sighed, and ran a hand through his silky blonde hair. _Damn_, he thought disgustedly. _I'm turning into Potter_. He quickly removed his fingers from his hair.

As his eyes closed again, his thoughts turned back to his predicament. Although his mask had become more and more cold, inside he was even more vulnerable. He had lost his father figure, his role model; he had lost his mom, who was still swimming through her _own_ thoughts; and he had…no friends.

Draco pictured Pansy Parkinson (_Damn that woman_), Blaise Zaibini and Theodore Nott in his mind. Could he really call them friends? _No_, he mused. They were more…comrades. They, of course being his year mates and fellow Slytherins, knew more about Draco than anyone else. However…friends?…no.

Draco sighed and shifted, agitated by his own thoughts. A rueful smirk flitted across his face before disappearing into the tight frown of his mouth. In less than half a year, Harry-the-boy-who-just-wouldn't-stop-living had defeated Voldemort…for what was it? The fifth time?; Sirius Black had been killed by none other than his aunt Bellatrix Black; his father had gone to prison; and Death Eaters had…

Lids snapped open as Draco remembered just what had happened after his father's capture. His face paled at the memory and his fingers shook slightly.

_--- FLASHBACK ---_

(Two weeks after the capture of Lucius Malfoy. Setting: Malfoy Manor, 7: 19 P.M.)

The night had seemed normal enough. Narcissa Malfoy was out, visiting Diagon/Knockturn Alley to check up on some business. Draco had stayed in the parlor, sitting on the couch, staring pensively into the dying, green fire. He was just about to return to his room when he heard the massive trembles reverberating around the Manor. The shrieks of terror-stricken house-elves as well the sound of many crystal plates shattering was deafening.

The noise was terrifying. Shakes and grumbles shook the house as massive currents of magic bounced off the walls. The green fire had suddenly roared to life, flames licking the gray slates of the fireplace. Sparks flew everywhere and the walls shook with such intensity Draco thought they might just give.

Suddenly from all around him, black cloaks shook and billowed in the still-rippling magic currents reverberating around the room. Death Eaters.

The black-cloaked figures formed a tight ring around him, leaving no room for escape. Every single wand was out, ebony, oak, ash, willow, pine – all of them becoming another limb.

These were all the other Death Eaters --- the ones that hadn't been captured that night at the Ministry. There was stillness for a moment before one figure came before Draco. The hood hung low over his face, but Draco could still glimpse some dark, thick, hair through the shadows of the cloak.

As soon as the Death Eater came forward, the others shifted, filling the gap where he had previously occupied. A dark, fluid voice flowed out between thin lips. The younger Malfoy's mind scrambled to place the particular voice – he was sure he had heard it before…

"Draco," the voice breathed. "You know why we have come, do you not?"

The light-haired boy stood up straight, trying not to let his fear show. Of course he knew – every single child of a Death Eater knew. For most of them, it would be their fate.

"Seeing as your father is still in that filthy dungeon, you must take his place. It is the rule, as you know, for the son to take his father's place. Now, Draco," the voice purred, "your father is still among us, but during his…absence, you must complete the circle."

Draco stood stock-still, not moving, hardly blinking. His heart was hammering furiously, but it didn't show on the outside. He was sure he could have mouthed the words the Death Eater was about to speak.

The Death Eater spoke again in that silky, dangerous voice. "Draco Lucius Malfoy...we, the faithful followers of the Dark Lord, have presented you the offer of initiation into our circle. Initiation represents your loyalty and faithfulness to the Dark Lord, the Death Eaters, and yourself. If you choose to accept this offer, initiation begins thirteen days from tonight. If you refuse…" He let his words trail off.

Draco knew it wasn't really a choice. To die, or not to die? That was the question. If he refused…who knew?…he might just be tortured to death. Draco Lucius Malfoy would be tortured and killed – he knew too much already, his father being in close contact with the Dark Lord.

Draco looked the figure in the eye, or what he presumed was the eye. His words controlled and cool, he spoke for the first time. "Nott," he began as the Death Eater appeared slightly startled. Draco sneered. "Yes, Nott, I know it's you. I acknowledge the offer and will respond thirteen days from now. You are dismissed."

Nott growled softly – obviously not appreciating being dismissed as the young Malfoy had just done. Within seconds, the many poppings signified the disappearance of the circle.

Draco shakily sat back into the sofa, mulling over his current situation. He looked up at the tall bookcases on the far end of the room – they were still shaking. He knew the crashes and booms were from the many protection spells surrounding Malfoy Manor, being pushed and pulled. The Apparation of that many Death Eaters all at once had pushed the spells so that magical current had erupted all at once. Draco knew the spells would have to be re-enforced tomorrow.

As he leaned against the soft backing of the sofa, he bit his lip in a most un-Malfoyish fashion.

To die or not to die?…That was the question.

--- FLASHBACK ---

Draco blinked, pulling himself out of his own memories. He smirked ruefully – only ten more days to go. Ten more days.

**Semi-not-really-important-notes **(you can skip over these):

**(1) **-- I'm not sure if wizards have briefcases, but just for this scene, they will. Okay?

**(2)** – Draco's hair is somewhat similar to Harry's in the third movie. Only…blonde…yeah…

**A/N** – Hmmm…this was somewhat of a transition chapter. Lots of information on Draco's new life. Not exactly improved though, eh? Anyhow, hope you enjoyed it, I had fun writing it. And look! 7 seven pages! Woo:D

**Reviewers**:

**KaylaisEvenstar**** – **It did actually. But I'm hoping to get the improved chapters up soon!

**GliteryFairyDust**** – **Thanks, yeah I know it's short. This chappie's a bit longer though. Hmm…I like your suggestion! LOL!

**MidnightsRose**** – **Glad you liked it:)

**sinsoftheflesh98**** – **Thanks for your review. It does 'suck supremely', I like the way you put it. :) Next update coming soon!

**Roddanagh** – Thanks for pointing out those little A/N's, I love it when reviewers offer advice. And I've re-posted chapter 2 (_without_ the little A/Ns) :)

And thank you to: **Rchan2****Kari Morgana Black****MidnightsRose****Eve-Phire** You are my inspiration!

Okay my friends, you see that small little blue button that says 'Go'? Click on it…click on it…it's drawing you to it's power…cliiiick…

More later darlings!


	3. Cruel Lips and Black Cloaks

**Authoress Babble:** Alrighty, my darlings – here is chapter three! Yay! I know it's been ages since chapter 2 – but…oh well. Anyway, it's here so enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I don't own anything _except the plot_. So don't sue.

**NOTE: If you don't like the Harry/Draco pairing don't read this story. **

**NOTE:** I don't have my Harry Potter books with me at the moment, so I don't know the exact names of the Death Eaters captured at the Ministry. If there is a contradiction to the book, I'm sorry. But please move on as the names are not that significant. Thank you.

* * *

**3. Cruel Lips and Black Cloaks**

Expensive Italian shoes paced across the large bedroom, only slightly muffled by the carpet. The torches burned low, giving the dark room a tenebrous feel to it. The sun had set long ago, pale stars dusted across Bast's wide expanse of inky-black sky. Dark green velvety curtains were drawn around a large window set into the side of a wall.

Forward ten steps. Pause. Turn. Forward ten steps. Pause. Turn. Repeat.

A lone figure paced the room, his silver-blonde hair coruscating the flickering torch-light. He paced some more then stopped. Unsure of what to do with himself, he walked over to his bookcase and ran a finger along the old titles.

A bookcase ran the length of a wall, dark gleaming ebony wood displaying stacks upon stacks of books. Directly across from it was a large four-poster bed. It had, like the bookcase, ebony posts, with ivory snakes curling elegantly around the top. Shining jade eyes were cut and placed, giving the snakes an animated look.

The young Malfoy stopped then sighed heavily, falling into an overstuffed chair. He chewed his lip and glanced at his hands worriedly. Minutes passed as he jiggled his leg restlessly.

Thirteen days ago Death Eaters had appeared in Malfoy Manor, offering Draco initiation into the ranks of Death Eaters. It was a threat – not a choice. The blonde-haired teen shivered at the very memory. The cold circle of black descending upon him…wands out...dangerous silky words pouring from cruel lips.

Shaking his head slightly to bring himself out of his chilly memories, Draco swept his eyes over his dark room. The books on the bookshelves, a lamp on the dresser, a pitcher of water on the night-stand; they all trembled occasionally. There were still some magical currents rippling through Malfoy Manor. The Apparation of so many Death Eaters at once had pushed the protection wards on the Manor, forcing some to bend and send magical currents bouncing through the house.

Draco knew he could have re-inforced protection shields himself, or brought in a special wizard for that. But…it was almost a trap. A test if you will. The loyal followers of the Dark Lord knew that a Malfoy could put up extremely strong protection shields – even if the Malfoy was Draco. But if Draco had cast another set of protection shield, the Death Eaters would have immediately been suspicious of him. It was their very own test – if you put up shields, it signified that you didn't trust them.

Draco gave a short, harsh laugh. Trust? There _was_ no trust. Even between Voldemort and his cronies, trust didn't exist. Perhaps some respect – maybe some fear, yes. But trust? No. Slytherins didn't trust each other. It was a dog eat dog world out there. You can't trust or depend on _anyone_ but yourself. A pureblooded child was taught to fear his elders. That was just the way it was.

Draco glanced at the softly ticking clock on the table next to him. _Tick…tick…_ 9:47 P.M. _tick…tick…_ He sighed. _It's no bloody use_, he thought. _I can't even stay still. Might as well go wait for my inevitable death._ He rose and walked with surprising elegance, considering the situation, out the door. Down the dark hallway…down a flight of stairs…down another hallway…through a door…past the painting of a gruesome war…left…right…down…up…right…up a set of spiral staircases…

When he finally made his way down to the parlor, it was 9:54. Easing himself nervously down onto the black couch, he waited. The room had an eerie quality to it – no movement, no fair-haired lady sipping her wine, no…Draco sighed glancing at the dying fireplace. Narcissa Black-Malfoy had gone out to Knockturn/Diagon Alley, to check up on business. Draco didn't expect her back until morning.

9:55……9:57……9:59……

_Pop! Pop! PoppoppoppopPOP!_

Draco jumped up, startled as the familiar black ring of bodies closed around him once more. Every single person had his or her wands out, all of the tips pointing ominously at him.

The dying fire turned blue and roared to life at the intensity of magic running through the air.

The same Death Eater came forward, a smirk playing on his cold lips, twirling his wand in one hand.

_Ah_, Draco thought somewhat amusedly. _So – not exactly scared of being found out, are you Nott?_ His hand instinctively went for his wand in his pocket. The familiar wood brought him a pinprick of comfort, but that disappeared quickly.

"Ahhh…young Draco. How good it is to see you again. Well…how have you been? Well, I hope?" Nott spoke smoothly and trained his dark eyes on the Malfoy.

"Nott," Draco replied coolly. "This is hardly the time or place for an exchange of useless words. We all know why you're here – so why don't you just skip the formalities."

The hooded Death Eater narrowed his eyes at the boy in front of him. Hmm…bold. Just like his father. Hmm…boldness – a good trait in a Death Eater. He smirked. "Of course, young dragon."

A Death Eater, whether man or woman Draco couldn't tell, made a soft growling noise and stepped forward slightly. A pale smooth hand and an incoherent mutter stopped the figure. The first Death Eater turned sharply towards the figure beside them. Then they retreated slowly, glaring at Draco all the while.

Draco started slightly at the sight of the pale hand but pushed the thought away for now. However he shot a puzzled glance at the hooded figure that had stopped the Death Eater beside them.

Nott turned around to face the circle. "Wands down," he said silkily with a dangerous hint in his voice. Most of the wands were lowered, although some were kept up.

His voice took a harsher, colder tone now. His face became rigid and cold. "Parkinson – Avery – Flint – wands _down_." The wands were lowered at the order, but not without icy glares.

"Now, now," the Death Eater chided softly. "We're all…friends here." Turning back to Draco he suddenly became more formal and business like.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy," he began, "Thirteen days ago you had received the noble offer of initiation into our ranks. Initiation shows your respect and loyalty to the Dark Lord, to your fellow Death Eaters, and to yourself. If you accept, initiation will begin immediately tonight." Nott didn't even bother to mention what would happen to Draco if he refused.

Draco swallowed, choosing his words carefully. Everything had been planned out – and it had to run exactly as planned. If _anything_ went wrong…well, he didn't even want to think about the consequences.

"I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, acknowledge your offer of initiation. However, for the present time – I cannot be initiated and I cannot accept the Dark Mark."

Angry mutters rippled through the circle as the tension in the room mounted. Wands were immediately whipped out from behind backs or inside robes. Every single wand was trained on him, and eyes bored into him from all angles.

Nott advanced until the tip of his wand was merely inches from Draco's nose. The young Malfoy didn't flinch or appear startled.

"And why," Nott said dangerously. "May I ask, are you refusing our offer?" Brown eyes darkened to black and glittered dangerously.

"The Death Eaters need a spy," Draco stated simply. When the Death Eaters didn't move or respond he took that as a sign to continue. "The Dark Lord needs to…he needs Harry Potter. For the past sixteen years you have been seeking out this boy, and time and time again you have failed."

Angry screeches sounded from some of the cloaked figures as wands were jabbed threateningly. Nott whipped around and hissed at them to be silent.

Draco stood stock-still waiting to continue. Nott looked down on the cold boy in front of him, torn between hearing him out and hurting him for marring the Death Eater name.

"Continue," he hissed warily, black eyes blazing.

Draco obeyed. "I currently attend Hogwarts, as you know. I have the greatest chance of bringing you Harry Potter. It's not like any one of you can walk into Hogwarts and simply snatch the boy away. The teachers, students…that old fool – they'd be on you in seconds. However, I can be a spy. Listen in and try to bring you the boy. However if I am a spy, I cannot take the Dark Mark. Dumbledore would keep me under his watchful gaze, and the teachers or other students would see."

The Death Eaters remained silent weighing to young Malfoy's words. Nott faced him lips set in a deadly smile that remained on his lips.

"Hmm…an _ereptor eruditis_…" he stated softly. "A spy…yes…hmm…"

Draco inhaled quietly, hope swelling inside of him. Maybe…just…just possibly the plan would work…a small feeling of relief warmed his body…

Nott set his gaze on Draco. "The Death Eaters need a spy…do you accept, knowing that whereas no mark is burned upon you, you are still in the service of the Dark Lord?"

Draco swallowed and parted his lips to speak:

"I accept, and acknowledge that I am still in the service of the Dark Lord. I will be all faithful and loyal to him."

He bit his tongue anxiously praying with every fiber in his body that this would turn out as hoped. He never noticed the blazing glacier eyes behind him, or the pale, shaking hands that raised a wand dangerously.

"HE LIES!" a voice shrieked shrilly. Every head whipped around to face sharp as steel eyes.

Draco gasped.

"M-m-mother?" he whispered in shock. "Y-y--"

"HE LIES!" Narcissa screamed. "H-he will NOT be faithful to our Lord! He-he-LIAR!" she shouted and pointed her wand at him.

Draco felt coldness seep into him, freezing the very blood in his veins. Blood drained from his face, and he swayed unsteadily. A chill wrapped around him like a heavy fog, surrounding him in it's iciness.

Narcissa, once a regal powerful woman, was now a shrieking crazed person. She plunged a hand into her pocket and Draco feared that a dagger would emerge. Instead, a small, clear vial was produced. Clear liquid sloshed around in the vial innocently.

Draco paled even more. He instantly recognized the clear fluid from many days in his Potion's Master's classroom_. Shit_, he thought desperately. _Veritaserum._

_

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_

**A/N:** Mwhahaha! A cliffe! Don't you just hate me now/evil grin/ Well darlings, I'm expecting _at least_ more 5 reviews! No reviews, no story. Remember that. Although if there are _more_ than 5 reviews, please FEEL FREE /cough/hack/cough/ to drop another review! And just to agonize you further, the fourth chapter is just sitting on my computer, mocking you. So…why are you still reading this? GET REVIEWING PEOPLES!

/evil grin/

**Linari Tanis** Thank you for reviewing!


	4. A Dragon and His Lesson

**Authoress Babble: **And it's here! The anticipated chapter four! Wohoo! Enjoy my darlings!

**Disclaimer:** It's not mine. All belongs to the fantabulous writer named J.K.Rowling. I only own the plot.

**Note: **Alright, now I know the summary says that it takes place in Harry's 6th year. While, yes, that is true, that will be later in the story. These first couple of chapters are setting the stage for the plot to come/wiggles eyebrows/

**Note: **Sorry, if I didn't explain in chapter 3, but 'ereptor eruditis' basically means 'robber of knowledge' in Latin. I'm not a Latin scholar, but if _there_ are any of you Latin geniuses out there on FF, feel free to correct my (almost definite) mistake. Thanks!

**NOTE: Some parts will be slightly graphic—if that doesn't appeal to you, I will have a small A/N telling you the parts you can skip and where you can resume avidly reading.**

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**4. A Dragon and His Lesson**

Previously on Sounds of the Heart (chapter 3):

_Draco paled even more. He instantly recognized the clear fluid from many days in his Potion's Master's classroom. Shit, he thought desperately. Veritaserum._

_

* * *

_

The young Malfoy's mind scrambled, attempting to find an escape through this mess. His terrified eyes swept the parlor. Black bodies were pressed tightly against each other, leaving absolutely no room for escape. The fire had died, making the black cloaks a part of the shadows.

Nott turned back to the blonde teen in front of him. His expressionless mask was gone, instead replaced by icy anger. Black eyes were glittering against the darkness of his cloak and the room, like hungry hounds settling on their prey.

"Young Draco," he hissed. "Is this…true? Does your mother lie?" His eyes flicked briefly towards Narcissa before boring into Draco again.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…

Narcissa shrieked again at being called a liar. Enraged, the slim blonde woman lunged and Draco leaped out of the way. Instantly, ropes curled and tied themselves around Draco, binding him tightly. Before Draco could even blink, black cloaks surrounded him, bodies towering over his splayed form on the ground.

Draco panted slightly, keeping still, knowing that magically enforced ropes would be impossible to break out of. The cold stone floor pressed into his back, coldness seeping into him, spreading throughout his body.

Two Death Eater caught Narcissa and held back her flailing limbs. She screamed once before falling silent and looking at her son with an unimaginable amount of hatred. Glacier eyes flashed and penetrated deep into Draco's soul, chills running down his back, almost like a cold finger tracing his spine. Coldness…

Nott walked quickly over to the restrained woman, and plucked the small glass vial out of her pale hand. Another shriek was quickly muffled as a large hand clamped over her mouth. Nott walked over to the shaking figure on the floor, a hard steel mask set firmly in place.

He knelt by the young Malfoy and harshly gripped his hair, forcing Draco's head back. Draco's mouth opened in a silent scream and the clear liquid was quickly dumped in. He laid back gasping for breath, hoping…hoping…

Silver gray eyes darkened and clouded over, becoming unfocused and hazy. The look of horror and apprehension ebbed away, leaving behind a soft face, mellowed by the effects of Veritaserum. Draco was vaguely aware of his conscious mind slipping blissfully away…a rough hand pulled his limp body up into a sitting position…hard, cold words poured from lips that killed mercilessly…glacier eyes…

Nott leaned over and gripped the smaller teen's shoulders, attempting to arrange him in a somewhat sitting position. He began speaking in a low voice, quickly and steadily.

"Draco Malfoy," Nott began coldly, "Does your mother lie?" He waited for a response from the semi-conscious boy.

"No" came the monotonous, sleepy voice.

Horrified shrieks sounded from the circle once again. Avada Kedavara, Crucio – black curses were on the tongues of many as wand whipped through the air. Suddenly they all stopped and every single wand dropped to the floor. A simple binding spell had been cast (by Nott) – it was sufficient and the questioning could continue once more.

Nott turned back to the blonde in front of him, hatred lining the creases of his face. "Do you fight for the Light?" he hissed furiously.

"Yes" was murmured again.

"What were you planning to do?" This time it wasn't Nott but Narcissa Malfoy. Still restrained, her long flowing hair was wildly tossed around, her usual image of beauty diminished into that an insane mad woman. She spat out the words, an odd look of glee on her twisted face.

"Spy." Draco said dully. "I was going to be a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. I would become a 'faithful' Death Eater and get close to the Dark Lord. Close enough to know of the intimate plans and details. I would know your weakness. Then I would report to Dumbledore who would in turn tell Harry Potter. Potter could then try and attack when you were weakest." Slow words were met with barely repressed curses and foul words.

"Why?" Nott asked again, mouth tingling to just say the words. Those sweet words of Avada Kedavara. And Dumbledore's little spy would be gone.

"A life is a life. Mudblood, Muggle, or Pureblood. They all--" Draco never finished his treacherous words.

Wands forgotton, kicks and punches were aimed at the young Malfoy. The Death Eaters, those whom regarded themselves higher above everyone else because they were pureblooded, had been reduced to fighting, kicking and screaming—'Muggle' style.

(If you don't like bloody, violent scenes—**skip now**)

Hoods were ripped off as deadly kicks were aimed to Draco's side—chest—arms—legs—any available body part that wasn't currently under attack. Two kicks were placed strategically to Draco's chest—crack—and a sickening, twisted smile marred the already scarred face of a Death Eater. Someone grabbed his arm and wrenched it, hearing the satisfying 'crunch' of a broken arm.

A well-placed kick sent Draco flying across the floor, hitting the wall with a hard crack. He coughed and blood trickled out of his mouth, dripping down over his hands and onto the stone floor. His hands shook, red life smearing over bruised flesh…

The Death Eaters maliciously attacked the blonde, causing gut-twisting pain...but making sure that he lived—making sure that he would feel the pain being thrust upon him…

(continue reading, please)

And above it all…standing up powerfully—Narcissa Malfoy stood up, once again the proud, sly woman that she was before. With icy eyes she watched her son, her only son, being attacked by Death Eaters. And she smiled. A ghost of a smile, twisting her regal features and marring her beautiful face.

_Ah my son. My dragon. You have yet to learn where you loyalties lie…_

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**A/N:** Yeah, I know. Short, short, short. However, it's a continuation of the cliffie (hehe) and I couldn't really put in more of the plot until this pretty little scene was finished. Anyways, hope you liked it—and remember to please drop a review! It really really encourages me. Well—chapter 5 soon to be up—and cookies for all my reviewers! 

**Reviewers: **

Linari Tanis: Looks like his quick wit didn't save him this time…poor Draco… :(

Kari Morgana Black: Well, not much of an insult to me…I took a Sorting Hat quiz and I was a Slytherin…so yeah… :D

sinsoftheflesh98: The update's here! Hope you liked it and thanks for reviewing!

Blonde Dragon: /sigh/ Poor Draco indeed. But thanks for reviewing!

MidnightsRose: Thank you!

**We remember all those that perished in the September 11th attacks. My prayers are with the family and friends of the lost ones. **


	5. Fallen

**Authoresses Note:** I know it took forever, to get this up. Like a month and a bit right? Well, wanna know what happened? 4 Essays, half a textbook, Eaters of the Dead, and chaos happened. School just piled on top of me, and as well I got a new belt in Tae Kwon Do, so I've been practicing for that. Anyways, I'm _really_ _REALLY_ sorry, honest to God—I hate this getting up here so late. Well mes amis, I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I don't own anything except the plot. And y'all know how the plot evolved. **/cough/ sugar overdose /cough/

**Note 1: **There _will_ be eventual slash, but not yet

**Note 2: **This isa rather poetic chapter. Kinda pointless and abstract, but hey, read and review.

**Note 3:** I don't have a beta, so I'm sorry for all the my horrible spelling and grammatical mistakes. Anyone interested in being beta:)

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The sun had faded, light evaporating, cold silence taking it's place. The night spoke then, icy whispers seeping through stone cracks. Beasts, monsters crept up furtively, filling your bones, cold as death. Some seen, most not. They took the forms of the dark night, the swaying trees and the new moon. 

_Heaven bent to take my hand  
And lead me through the fire  
Be the long awaited answer  
To a long and painful fight_

A lone figure, curled up, no longer impervious to the beasts that bit, yelled, cursed… Clinging on to life, the precious essence breathed into his very soul, grasping for something, anything to hold onto.

_Truth be told I've tried my best  
But somewhere along the way  
I got caught up in all there was to offer  
And the cost was so much more than I could bear_

He shuddered, once, twice, exhaustion clouding his thoughts. He wrapped the shadows around him, a protective cloak, blending into the darkness around him.

_Though I've tried, I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up  
Better I should know  
So don't come round here   
And tell me I told you so..._

The stone floor beneath shaking limbs was cold, hard and unfeeling. The shadows protected him, but only a thin covering.

Fear. It lived, thrived inside him, always present, never gone. _Your greatest fear, is fear itself_. But a word used too often, loses it's meaning.

_We all begin with good intent  
Love was raw and young  
We believed that we could change ourselves  
The past could be undone  
But we carry on our backs the burden  
Time always reveals  
The lonely light of morning  
The wound that would not heal  
It's the bitter taste of losing everything  
That I have held so dear._

Silver-blonde hair fell around his ears, dirty and matted with dried blood.

_I've fallen...  
I have sunk so low  
I have messed up   
Better I should know  
So don't come round here  
And tell me I told you so..._

He cradled his arm to his chest, whimpering and rocking softly. Purple, blue, red bruises marred alabaster skin. Blood dried and flaked, the tiny particles lost in the darkness.

A soundless cry of help echoed from within his very existence; it echoed off the dungeon walls and even the night fell silent, too ashamed to answer, too fearful.

His leg was at an unnatural angle, twisted this way and that. Broken body, broken soul.

The figure groped wildly in the engulfing darkness, fumbling fingers moving across the stone, grasping at the night. Cold hands met and equally as cold piece of solace, of comfort. The boy took his wand in trembling fingers and whispered something even the shadows couldn't hear.

A small glow of green light illuminated his face, a sharp, angled face, lined with the cares that came too soon. Cheekbones protruded, giving his face a stark look, unhealthy and exhausted.

The pain in his arm was reduced to a dull throb although other parts of his body still were aching.

They had left him there, no one with him. They had left him with the shadows, and the night—nothing but pain to comfort him.

It was a blur. No more than a blur of black cloaks, and wands, red, green, black, spells, pain blossoming…

Nowhere left to turn, alone in his very own hell.

_Though I've tried, I've fallen... _

The pain hurt more than ever.

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/sniff sniff/ The song isn't mine. It's called Fallen by Sarah Mclachlan. Beautiful song—I was listening to it when I was writing it. /sniff/ Buy it now. It's really really good. Anyhoo—like the chapter? Short, ugh, I know. Next time though! 

**Reviewers:** (I luv y'all!)

**Blonde Dragon**: Thank you for reviewing! Sorry it came out so late… :(

**Linari Tanis: **/gasp/ You have a voodoo doll too? Me too/brings out her collection of disfigured dolls/ And here's Voldy…and Snape…and that big ol' spider in the Forest…and…. xD Innocent? Hmm… Yes, I wish. But, unfortunately no…possibly later? Ooooh… O.o

**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**


	6. Dark Flower

**Authoress Ramble:** Wow. It took _forever_ to get this chapter up. Ugh—it was all my fault too. I seem to have a—ah—knack for procrastination. /guiltily scratches head/ Anyways, it's here. P.S. – **big** thank you to Blonde Dragon for being an _awesome_ beta and loyal reviewer! MUCH appreciated!

**Note**: This chapter was beta-ed—woo!

**Note: Eventual slash. Not yet though. Sheesh.**

**Note:** /sigh/ It's not mine. It never will be. Get over it, don't sue, and keep reading. :D

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**Chapter 6/** Dark Flower

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Dark rain was falling fast and heavy outside, fat droplets rolling down the window of the compartment. The night sky held a certain gloominess to it—one filled with apprehension and anxiousness. 

The quiet rumbling of the Hogwarts Express was soothing; a steady rhythmic noise.

The compartment was empty, save for a lone figure in dark purple. The folds of a dark purple cloak were wrapped around a small petite feminine figure; her head resting gently against the window. A lock of dark brown, almost black, hair fell from beneath the hood, curving slightly around her chin. Her eyes were opened, but hidden beneath the cloak's shadow.

A booming crash of thunder shook the heavens, but the figure didn't move—except for her eyes. Her head turned towards the sky outside, exposing her eyes through the darkness of her hood.

Dark purple irises glowed with the wisdom and knowledge witnessed by a scant few. Her eyes were captivating, drawing all focus away from anything else. Different shades of purple swirled in her eyes, hues ebbing and flowing with the coming of her emotions.

She blinked slowly and pulled the cloak further over her head, effectively throwing her face into shadow once again.

---

Her name was Melanthe Carr. No one knew very much about her, except that _(maybe "save" instead of 'except that'?) _she was in her mid-to-late 20's and had trained specially in Korea in many forms of martial arts. She wasn't a full human—some type of magical being's blood was flowing in her veins.

Melanthe—the Greek name for 'dark_)—_was currently on the Hogwarts Express heading for Hogwarts. The supposedly 'jinxed' position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was going to be filled by her this year.

---

The soft padding of the old wizard's footsteps sounded through the dimly lit corridor. The torchlight flickered and made his white hair glow slightly. Dark blue boots padded along, followed by the silent feline-like walk of Professor Carr. The night was cold, and the soft light of the waxing moon just barely graced the stone windows set highin the wall.

Albus Dumbledore stopped in front of a mirror placed on the wall. The mirror was tall; it was nearly six feet high and three feet wide. It seemed inconspicuous enough—for a magical castle at least. There was a wood border around the mirror, made of dark ebony wood with inscrutable letters around the edges flowing gracefully and mysteriously in silver ink.

The ancient figure clad in dark blue paused before the mirror, pondering quietly.

"_Latens Intellegenti_a," he said softly but clearly—and waited.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then the mirror trembled softly, and the reflections of Albus Dumbledore and Professor Carr rippled. The images shivered and swirled, becoming a softly moving blur. The image cleared to show…nothing. There was no reflection of the two people standing before it. Neither Professor Dumbledore nor Professor Carr showed any signs of surprise, but the latter raised her chin subtly in a sign of admiration and appreciation.

The mirror rippled again and a faint reflection of a stone archway appeared. The archway seemed to be leading towards utter darkness.

The old man smiled softly and gestured towards the mirror, looking at his new employee. She glanced at him, a wordless question of invitation. He nodded—just a simple action of approval.

"I hope you find your quarters comfortable and sufficient," Dumbledore began calmly. "Your belongings should be in there as well. If you need anything, simply ask for Dobby the house-elf. I believe you know where my office is. Good night, Professor Carr." Dumbledore nodded again and walkedawaywithout a further glance behind him.

Professor Carr watched him leave, her eyes now a medium purple hue. She blinked and turned back to the mirror. Taking one last look at the 'reflection', she stepped through.

Inside was a cozy sitting room, complete with a crackling fire. The walls and furniture were a deep orchid, and the wood of the furniture was polished ebony. Around the fire were two armchairs and a loveseat. On the wall facing the archway was a black iron spiral staircase leading up to a second level not seen from the sitting room. Behind the armchairs was a long bookcase running along the entire side of a wall.

She calmly walked over to the bookcase, immediately drawn to the old titles and faded covers. As she walked along the lengthy bookcase, she ran a finger over the old and fraying titles.

She pulled one off the shelf and gently dusted the cover off. Faded gold lettering was raised under her long fingers. She gracefully sat down and continued reading long after the moon faded and the sun awakened.

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**Authoress Note:** Why is it that the chapters just get shorter and shorter/pokes monitor/ Grr. By the way, _Latens Intelliga_, I believe roughly translates into 'show your intelligence/secrets'. Erm…I think. Anyway—on to review responses! Yay!

**Sinsoftheflesh98:** Thank you for reviewing! Yeah, sucks that you couldn't review for the other chappies but oh well—you reviewed! I'm satisfied. Thanks!

**Blonde Dragon:** Yay! New chappie! Much fun /dances around with you/ _Thank you so much_ for betaing and reviewing—it makes me very happy to write!

**Jessijewels:** Thanks for reviewing. Hmm…well, in the end, they might be gay or they might not. Eugh—it's kinda hard to explain without divulging everything. Let's see—what I'm trying to say is, that Harry and Draco might eventually get together, they just don't know it yet. Pffttt…does that make sense?

**Midnight's Rose: **Thank you for reviewing! Here's your chappie!

**Review darlings—review/pointed glare/**


	7. Return to Hogwarts

**Author Notes**: I **_know_** it's been over four months since I've updated...shameful I know. I could list all the things that I was doing however you came here to read a chapter, not to listen to me rant. So read on!

**Disclaimer**: The only thing I own is the plot, the new DADA professor and all six books. Everything else belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Hugs and cookies for my beta, the loverly BlondeDragon! Thank you!

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**Chapter 7**/ Return to Hogwarts 

Albus Dumbledore smiled at the sea of students whispering and giggling before him. The noise and chatter of children that filled the decorated Great Hall had been sorely missed over the summer. Though Albus himself enjoyed the boisterous and lively noise, there were some professors who didn't care for it as much.

Dumbledore reclined comfortably back in his chair, absently stroking his famous white beard. Two seats to his right, Professor Sprout laughed and continued chatting with Professor Sinistra on her right.

Dumbledore's eyes wandered over the House tables before settling on a certain sixth-year, raven-haired Gryffindor boy.

---

Harry could feel them; he could actually _feel_ Dumbledore's eyes on him as he half-heartedly chatted with his year mates. He knew if he just turned his head 90°, a certain pair of frustratingly twinkling eyes would be on him, as if they were penetrating into his mind.

_Right Harry_, he mused, _just concentrate back on Ron…_

"…and _then_, Charlie did this dive—it must have been thirty feet!—and wham!—right into a branch of a tree. Well, he caught the Snitch, but ended up with a bloody face and a broken arm. You should have seen my mum; she nearly banned us from Quidditch for the rest of the summer. Anyway, I have a bloody brilliant idea for our Quidditch plays this year! Charlie showed me some moves, and I figured that if we fly in that formation we--"

"—Harry?"

Harry was jolted back to reality by the sound of Hermione's concerned voice; he had been drifting off and not really paying attention to Ron—it was quite easy, considering that it only took an occasional lethargic 'yeah, mate' and 'of course' to keep the conversation fairly one-sided. He blinked and shot a reassuring smile at the petit brunette sitting across from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Ron.

"—Aw, Hermione!" Ron whined. "I was right in the middle of my explanation. _Really_, now--"

"—Are you alright Harry?" Hermione asked, putting away her book (_Practical and Theoretical Charms of the 18th century _by Juliette Bloom) and furrowing her brows in concern for her friend. "You seem a little..."

"I'm fine Hermione—_really_." He reassured. "Just…tired I guess." He yawned an obviously fake yawn just to please her. He smiled, but the smile stayed on his lips even though his eyes remained distant. He turned back to his red-headed friend and urged him to continue his "fascinating" story.

Ron couldn't get past describing his "Initial Migration Formation with Chasers Flying Above To Intercept The Ball As Soon As We Execute The 'Cloudburst' Play With A Back-twirl Move Just to Confuse Them" before Hermione interrupted him for the second time.

"…I wonder what she's like?"

Ron muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, rolled his eyes, and spoke very pointedly to her. "_Hermione_, I am _trying to _explain to Harry our new Quidditch plays. _What_ is it _this_ time?"

"That woman—right there—sitting next to Snape. Well, obviously she's our new Defense teacher; there's no other position available." Hermione explained while looking over to the Head Table. "I wonder what we'll be covering…"

A very exasperated sigh escaped Ron's lips. "_Hermione_, I'm sure we will find out _tomorrow_." He stated before shaking his head in amazement and turning back to Harry.

"Anyway, mate, as I was saying; if Angelina and Katie were on the wings…" Ron eagerly started discussing Quidditch again. But Harry wasn't listening. His eyes strayed to the Head Table, to a certain woman sitting next to the Potions Master. She was small, no doubt about that; at about 5 feet 2 inches. Her posture was McGonagall-like, perfectly straight. She wore a deep purple robe, which stood out from the sea of black around her. Her straight hair, a brown color so dark it was nearly black, fell along her face before curving gently around her chin.

The new Professor took a sip of her goblet, letting her eyes wander around the Hall full of students. When she glanced over to the Gryffindor table, an unreadable flash went through those purple irises as she focused on Harry for a moment. But, as quickly as Harry saw it, it was gone.

Harry looked away, intrigue and slight confusion swirling through his thoughts. He pushed those thoughts away and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus back on Ron's animated chattering.

"…_Anyway_, I said to him--"

"—Oh hush both of you! —The First Years are here!"

Harry and Ron shot annoyed glares at Hermione, before turning to look at the line of small first years timidly walking up to the raised platform at the front of the Great Hall. They were whispering excitedly to each other and they were all…wet?

"Uh…why are they all soaking wet?" Ron asked Hermione, raising his eyebrows at the dripping 11-year-olds who were leaving a nasty trail of lake water behind them.

"Well, it _was_ raining when we got in the carriages, Ron; they had to cross the Lake - remember? In those rickety old boats?" Hermione replied. She turned her attention back to the front of the Hall where McGonagall had placed the three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat.

Harry tried to concentrate on the Sorting Ceremony, and not the curious looks he was getting from the First Years.

"_Can you see him? Over there!—with the glasses!"_

"_Eh?"_

"_Harry Potter you dolt!"_

"_I know _that_, you—oh! I see him!"_

"…and when I call your name, please come up to the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head and you will be sorted into your new House." The stern professor's clear and brisk voice rang out. She stepped back and the rest of the Hall (to the puzzlement of many First Years) waited—as if they expected something.

The ancient, limp, brown hat upon the stool had a large stitch running across the front. And suddenly it opened, and began to sing:

_A Sorting Hat I am! I am!_

_A Sorting Hat you see!_

_So slip me on and I'll tell you_

_Right where you should be!_

_A long, long time ago_

_Four wizards great and true_

_Combined their hearts and minds alike_

_To build this magic school! _

_Oh Gryffindor, courageous Gryffindor!_

_Noble, brash, and brave!_

_Took those with stubbornness and pride_

_With friends they'd fight to save!_

_And Ravenclaw, sharp Ravenclaw!_

_Took only those with qualities she deemed best_

_Wit, cleverness, and a thirst for knowledge _

_Which she prized above the rest! _

_Oh Hufflepuff, sweet Hufflepuff!_

_Kind-hearted, bright, and loyal!_

_Took only those with great optimism_

_And worked hard throughout their toil! _

_And Slytherin, sly Slytherin! _

_Selected only those of great ambition_

_Cunning, stance, and power_

_All became Slytherin's tradition _

_But how to chose among the children?_

_It was Gryffindor that found a way!_

_He sewed me up and put me on—a Sorting Hat you know!_

_To sort the children into houses throughout all of Hogwarts' days!_

_A Sorting Hat I am! I am!_

_A Sorting Hat you see!_

_So slip me on and I'll tell you_

_Right where you should be! _

The Hall burst into applause as McGonagall unfurled her scroll and started to call out names. "Adamson, Charlie!"

A small little boy scampered up the stool and hesitantly put the overly large hat on his head. It was a moment before the Hat shouted out: "Ravenclaw!" It continued in this fashion until all the First Years were sorted, ending with Zhang, Xin Jia ("_Gryffindor_").

Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands for attention. The Hall fell relatively silent as they regarded their smiling Headmaster.

"Now that we are all Sorted and seated," He began, "I would like to say a few words. First Years, please note that the Forb—"

Dumbledore suddenly cut himself off.Everyone in the Hall was silent, waiting and wondering why the Headmaster had suddenly stopped speaking.

"Er…why did Dumbledore just stop like that?" Ron whispered to Harry, looking up at the Headmaster, who was still silently standing up.

Harry opened his mouth to respond that didn't know, but he became too distracted to answer. From the corner of his vision, he saw Snape's eyes narrow slightly and something akin to concern flash in his charcoal eyes. Harry followed Snape's line of vision and saw…

"_Malfoy_?" Ron gasped, his voice choked and eyes narrowed suspiciously.

_Malfoy?_ Harry thought, his already unfocused mind now completely puzzled.

The mood suddenly shifted as whispering and muttered conversations broke out like wildfire throughout the Hall. It was minutes before Professor McGonagall could establish some order.

"Attention!" she barked, clapping her hands. "Attention _please!_"

Dumbledore tore his eyes away from Draco and focused back on the Hall. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. _Order!_ Thank you." He paused and resumed his speech, speaking over the hushed murmurs of the students. "As I was previously saying; First Years please note that the Forbidden Forest is _strictly_ out of bounds…"

Ron turned around and gaped, the look of astonished disgust on his face similar to those of many of the Gryffindors. "Malfoy?" he said, suspicion evident in his voice. "Why wasn't he on the Express?"

Harry wasn't paying attention, however. He had tuned out the Headmaster's speech and was focused on the blonde Slytherin. Draco had seated himself in his usual spot between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. What was unusual, however, was that they were moving away from him and sending him looks of ill-disguised loathing.

Draco Malfoy had changed over the summer; his baby doll features had hardened, giving his face an angular, regal look. His body was slim, almost to a point of being too thin, but still well-toned from Quidditch practice.

But as it seemed to Harry, it was his eyes that were the most noticeable of all his features. His eyes did not show anything: no feeling…no smug superiority…nothing.They were like broken mirrors - reflecting emotions, yet showing none.

---

Whispers still snaked around the Hall, long after the golden plates were littered with remains from the Welcoming Feast. Everyone was satisfied and lazy (including a certain Ron Weasley, judging by the ten chicken drumsticks on his plate) and simply sat around chatting with their friends or shooting looks at a certain blonde Slytherin. Even some of the bolder First Years were pointing and whispering under their breath, only to be ignored by the Malfoy heir.

"…right, Harry?" Seamus asked, grinning boyishly at the boy seated a few seats down from him.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry Seamus, what was that?" Harry looked apologetic as he tried to focus back on the conversation.

"They were discussing the 'Cloudbloom' Formation with Duck Move…or something like that." Hermione said to Harry with a roll of her eyes. It was painfully obvious that a three-hour-long discussion on quaffles, snitches, and formations were the least of her interests.

"'Cloudburst', 'Mione, 'Cloud_burst_'—not '_bloom'_." Ron corrected exasperatedly before turning back to Seamus and asking him his opinion on one of his plays.

---

"Mmm…I'm tired." Dean yawned, trudging sleepily up the stairs to the sixth year boy's dorm. "Night."

One by one, all the Gryffindors made their way up to their separate dorms, looking forward to their pre-warmed (much to Hermione's displeasure) beds and sleep.

Harry was just about to follow Ron up the stairs when Hermione gently called him.

"Harry?" She asked, concern in her eyes. "You…you seemed a little…distracted today. Are you _sure_ you're alright? Well, I mean that--"

Harry forced a smile on his face. "Really 'Mione, I'm fine - _honestly_. I'm just…look I'm fine, alright? _Really_. It was just a long…day."

Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "Harry—you _know_ you can come to me with _anything_. Absolutely _anything_, right? And I won't judge you, you can just talk. You know that right?"

The raven-haired teen smiled tightly at her and assured her that 'yes, of course he knew', before walking up to the comfort and familiarity of his dorm.

"Mm…night guys." Came the voice of a sleepy sounding Neville from the corner of the dorm.

"Night Neville, Dean, Harry, Ron." Seamus replied, drawing his hangings shut.

"Night mate." Harry murmured back, rolling over on his side and resting his head comfortably on his pillow. _It's good to be back_, he thought sleepily.

And at the end of the day, as the night crept through the window and dreams began to softly lull Harry to the bliss of sleep, the last thing he pictured were silver-gray shards of a broken mirror. Reflecting everything and showing nothing.

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Hm...I don't know if I like it all that much...even though it took me 4 months to write... /shakes head/ ... 

I happen to be quite fond of reviews. :) /nudge nudge/

**Elion**- Poor Draco indeed. Power of Love/strokes chin/ Hmm...and as for Harry? Well, I guess you'll have to see now won't you?.../wicked grin/ Thanks for reviewing by the way.

**Morena Evensong** - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the Death Eater image, and here's your update.

**Jhanterre** - Thank you so much for your review, it really pleases me that you are enjoying this. As for the other chapters, no I will not be including them. My computer did in fact eat them, but I realized afterwards that the chapters (2, 3, and 4) were underdeveloped and poorly written, so I decided not to incorporate them into the re-written version. However I feel very honored that you're interested in my story! Thanks for reviewing.

**Blonde Dragon:** Thank you so much for your input in the chapter. (I kept your Sorting Hat verses! Excellent job my dear!) Thanks for reviewing!

Thank you **MidnightsRose, Jessijewels, and sinsoftheflesh98 **for reviewing!


	8. A Meeting with the Headmaster

**Authoress Notes: **Ah well...it's late... Anyway, I'm working on the ninth chapter but will be out of the country for a bit so the ninth will be somewhat delayed.

Harry Potter does not belong to me, it never has, and it never will.

A huge thank-you goes out to Blonde Dragon who is a great beta--couldn't have done it without you.

I'm sorry if I didn't make it clearer before, but an ereptor eruditis is a spy. **  
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Chapter 8**/ A Meeting with the Headmaster

The night seemed to stretch forever; dark skies spanning the horizon, the soft brushing of stars just barely kissing the tops of the trees. The silence was heavy, but not oppressive as it wrapped the secluded courtyard in stillness. From the silence and the darkness merged a calm so placid, so heavy that it almost seemed a breach in time itself. As night slowly faded to give way to dawn, the lingering hues of blue and gray cast light upon the courtyard's walls, making the stone entrances throw their shadows into the dark hallways behind them. The sky was painted with long, dragging strokes of pink hue, the beginnings of dawn forcing the stars to become nothing more than a faint shimmering memory.

Draco Malfoy sat on a stone bench in the middle of a courtyard, the other three benches forming a circle around him. He shifted in his seat; the smooth, cold surface chilling him through the fabric of his robes and adjusted the green scarf around his neck. Long, tapered fingers idly traced the carved patterns inthe bench and Draco found his mind following the path of his finger andcompletely devoid of thought.He glanced over at the other benches which had unusual forms curling around their legs. One had a snake coiled around the back leg; another had a raven pecking a front leg. The remaining two had a griffin and a badger situated underfoot in true Hogwarts' unity form.

He withdrew his fingers and switched his gaze to the sunlight that had dawned across the horizonin shades of pink and gold. The night had completely disappeared and the sounds of birds could be heard high-pitched and shrill in the distance. He pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his watch: 6:53. The blonde stood and briefly shook out his legs, mindful of the white bandage around his foot. Casting one last look at the sunrise before him, he turned on his heel and walked towards the arched entrance of the courtyard.

Pausing for a moment, he glanced over his shoulder to take in the peach-infused glow that had illuminated the entire courtyard behind him. Draco rested his eyes on the fourth stone animal, admiring the way the stone relic of the benchwas coiled up, ready to spring with a hint of a forked tongue near the corner of its mouth. Tearing his eyes away from the thick, winding serpent, he stepped out from the lighted courtyard and through the carved arch as the dancing sunlight played off his light hair.

Draco arrived at the Slytherin table for breakfast early and sat down in his usual spot as he waited for other students to arrive. Only a few students were scattered around the Great Hall; not surprising since classes wouldn't start for another hour or so He poured himself some tea and absentmindedly traced the golden rim of his cup, letting his thoughts stray back to his morning.

He doubted any of the students—much less the teachers (save for perhaps Dumbledore)—knew of the courtyard. The courtyard had four entrances on all sides, but the hallways just beyond the doors were practically deserted. Many of the west wing classrooms were too small for the present student body, so they were simply abandoned – the same went for the other hallways. Draco had found the courtyard on the last night of his fifth year.A midnight stroll had brought him to this courtyard, and finding it untouched he had come back to it sometimes.

The blonde fingered the smooth handle of his cup and sat in silence as his tea grew cold.

Over the course of thirty minutes, most of the students filed into the Great Hall and took their seats at their respective tables. Draco looked up at the entering students year-mates but didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything to them since his greeting on the Platform. So he was not the least bit surprised when the Slytherinsbrushed past him, not even greeting him good morning. It looked like Crabbe and Goyle had been torn—they had hesitated for a moment, alternatively looking from Draco to their other classmates. Pansy, making up their mind for them, quickly dragged them away, an icy look on her face.

The blonde focused his attention back to his rubbery eggs and toast, acting like nothing had happened. _Well, Draco_, he thought, _what exactly did you expect?_ He pushed around the eggs on his plate with disinterest, in no mood for food.

He felt dozens of eyes on him, not just from the Slytherins, but from other Houses as well. Draco concentrated on his toast, ignoring the relentless stares directed towards him.

"…and for you, Ms. Holen….here is yours, Mr. Brown—I certainly saw that—now….ah, yes…Mr. Malfoy—"

Draco looked up to the Head of his House, who was a welcome interruption from the tense air around the otherSlytherins. Professor Snape was holding out his schedule, concern flickering in his eyes. The blonde accepted his schedule and slipped it into his bag, nodding slightly at his godfather as if to acknowledge the older man's concerns,

Snape paused and regarded his godson with slight worry on his face. "Mr. Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore wishes you see you in his office immediately," he said, his eyes lingering on Draco before moving to give the rest of his students their schedules.

The blonde stood while brushing the crumbs off his robes. He picked up his bag before slowly walking out of the Great Hall, glad to be away from the relentless staring.

Draco Malfoy had been in the headmaster's office three times before, but the room still unnerved him somehow; forced him on the edge of his seat, unsure of what could happen. It could be the portraits lined up against the wall facing him, all of the occupants either pretending to sleep or peering at him curiously, whispering amongst themselves.

He settled back in his chair and regarded the headmaster before him with suspicion gnawing his insides. He politely declined the offered lemon drop and waited apprehensively for Dumbledore to start.

"Mr. Malfoy," the old wizard began, steeping his fingers and looking at Draco over his half-moon glasses. He opened his mouth and paused, as if waiting for the right words to form. "No sense in beating around the bush is there?" His eyes twinkled, but only with a shadow of their former (?) happiness. "The events—over the summer—at Malfoy Manor—"

"—Are none of your business." Draco replied with forced calmness in each syllable, though his eyes flickered a stormy gray, piercing the headmaster with his stare and belying the calmness. Ten words issued by Dumbledore had tensed his entire body to the point he was coiled up and ready to springat a moment's notice.

Dumbledore nodded slowly and rested his chin on top of his fingers, weighing his words carefully. He sighed, a deep rumbling full of regret and sadness, before speaking. "Mr. Malfoy, I am fully aware that you do not wish me to intrude on your…personal…activities..." he trailed off, looking for any reaction from the boy in front of him at his words.

He found none save for the steely gray eyes narrowing in suspicion as Draco's face completely closed off. The old wizard continued while leaning forward in his chair, seriousness lining every word he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, you are a student in this school, and being a student in this school ensures that you have the safety and the resources that Hogwarts can provide. Whether or not you chose to utilize this protection is your choice, and only yours." Dumbledore settled back against his chair, letting his words sink into the thick, tense air around them.

"Choices, Mr. Malfoy," he started again, filling the silence with his slow, deliberate words, "Choices are ours and only ours to make. It is our choices that make the way for our future.Our dreams may fuel our actions, but ultimately, it is our choices that determine what we fight for." He paused. "Draco, I am fully aware of what has happened over the summer concerning you and the Death Eaters—"

"—Headmaster," Draco cut in forcibly, his eyes flickering a dangerous shade of mercury as a storm built up from within "With all due respect—_sir_—"

"—No Draco," Dumbledore interrupted sternly. "Let me finish. When Veritaserum was used on you, the Death Eaters effectively found out your plans as an _ereptor eruditis_. There is now little chance for the Order to utilize your position nowas the son of Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater." He paused. "Mr. Malfoy, although it may not seem like it, we do have the ability to gain control in this situation. We must act quickly to determine what role you will play in all of this."

"Professor Dumbledore," Draco said coldly, "what about Snape?"

Dumbledore regarded the boy in front of him intently. "_Professor_ Snape, Mr. Malfoy—and what about him?"

"I thought that he was a…spy…if—if he is an _ereptor eruditis_ for the Order, could he not be the spy for the Order? What if you had another spy enlisted for the Order?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly, closing his eyes in terrible exhaustion while the lines around his eyes deepened. "Draco, I am afraid that I cannot discuss this with you. I am willing to discuss _your_ situation; however, those of others are not for you to be concerned about."

"No?" The blonde cut in sharply, his eyes once more a hardened gray. "You are telling me that the other _ereptor eruditis, the_ _other_ spies for Voldemort are not my concern? Should I not be concerned for them? Should I not have _anything_ to do with them simply because I am too _young_? Tell me Dumbledore," He bit out with cold force behind his words, "is it not my _right_? It is!—I _should_ know!"

Draco had moved to the edge of his seat, his hands clenching the armrests with white-knuckled strain. His face was rigidly impassive except for his dark mercury eyes that flashed with thinly veiled frustration.

"Draco," the Headmaster began in a firm voice, "it is not your right, even if you think it is." He took on a slightly softer tone now, peering at Draco sadly over his half-moon spectacles. "Mr. Malfoy, there have been only two _ereptor eruditis_ spies in this war—and even then their lives have been confusing and dark. Their futures—unclear and complex—I do not wish to place that burden upon your shoulders. However, if you do chose to become a spy and work to establish a useful status, that is entirely your choice."

Draco did not reply, nor did he make a sound. He looked away from his Headmaster as an oppressive silence, heavy and uncomfortable, settled around the two wizards. It was quite a while before Headmaster suddenly spoke, his words dragged down with regretful sadness for the boy in front of him.

"Well Mr. Malfoy, it would seem that this discussion is over. I believe you have a Potions class to attend to; may I personally congratulate you on your excellent O.W.L, marks." Albus Dumbledore smiled with gentle sadness at the young Malfoy, who quietly rose and exited the Headmaster's office, shutting the door with a final click

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**Authoress Notes: **You are more than welcome to review. :)  



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